


Who's the Boss?

by Pimento



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, M/M, PWP, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:39:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5554496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrote this Wincest during Season 2, while John was still very much alive, and Sam was still the baby brother.  Dean isn't sleeping, the brothers start arguing... and we all know where arguing leads...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who's the Boss?

Sam stared at Dean with quiet concern as he moved around the motel room packing his stuff. 

Gradually his movements became more and more aggressive until eventually he threw his bag to the floor and shouted at his brother. “Would you just stop looking at me like that? I am fine. I do not want you to call Dad. I don’t need a doctor. Or a shrink … and I am not being irrational, I’m just sick of you treating me like some kind of freak. I AM FINE! I'm just finding it difficult to sleep.”

Sam swallowed and took a step back, looking away, trying hard to think what to say. “Dean, I …” his voice faltered as Dean shot him a look full of venom, snatched up his bag and headed for the car. Sam grabbed his own things and hurried after him, feeling every bit the baby brother, just as he had when they were children. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself, I am not a little kid anymore. I’m the tallest now for fuck’s sake.

“Get in the car, Sam,” Dean ordered, “and don’t say another word.”

Having only uttered two words in the whole argument so far, Sam blinked and started slightly, gasping at the unfairness of the remark. Dean was already in the driver’s seat and turning the ignition, causing him once again to rush clumsily to catch up.

Slumping into his seat, Sam bit his lip and began to play with his phone, studiously reading his e-mails, pretending to ignore the uncomfortable tension in the Impala. Dean was drumming his fingers on the wheel, still extremely agitated. Sam dropped his head further and scooted down the seat. Dean turned on the stereo and slammed in a Black Sabbath tape, allowing it to blast from the speakers. Sam hated Black Sabbath and Dean knew it. Sam risked a brief glance at his brother’s face and it was all the excuse Dean needed.

He slammed on the brakes and swung the Impala off the road onto the dirt verge. He cuffed Sam violently across the side of the head and reached over him to open the passenger door, before shoving him out. Not letting up for a second he leapt out after him, landing on top of Sam, punching and slapping. They rolled across the ground, fighting. Initially, Sam defending himself only, but as the unfairness of it all began to rankle he started to fight back.

They rolled over and over in the dirt, scuffling, neither really gaining the upper hand, until they fell into a gully. Sam landing heavily on top of Dean, winding him. Seizing the advantage Sam grabbed each of Dean’s hands, pinning them to the ground with his own, hooking his feet over Dean’s knees to prevent him from kicking his legs and throwing them over.

“Would you just stop, god damn it,” Sam growled.

Dean gasped for air, lungs burning, as Sam stared down at him, hazel eyes blazing with anger, panting and fucking irresistible. Dean moaned, the desire uncontrollable as he felt the heat of Sam’s breath on his cheek, felt his brother’s weight across his body, the sensation of being pinned by Sam too familiar from his dreams. Sam’s mouth was a thin line, until he saw the tears glistening in his brother’s eyes, chin dimpling, the corner of his mouth pulling away uncontrollably.

“Dean…” voice full of compassion as he released his hold on his brother. Stroking his cheek with hesitant fingers, watching with heart breaking sorrow as Dean flinched away from his touch. Dean rolled into a ball and began to sob. Sam moved carefully, before lying down beside him, spooning him, wrapping long arms around him and murmuring meaningless, but comforting noises.

The soft short hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck bristled under the hum of Sam’s voice, the tingle of arousal increasing the agony in his heart. This was sick, so sick, how could he explain this to Sam, but God, he didn’t want to move, needed this contact, felt the undeniable tightness of his jeans, the urge to rock into the feeling, to allow himself … He froze as Sam gently closed his lips onto the back of his neck, nipping at the point where the curve of neck and shoulder joined. His mouth and eyes opened wide in surprise.

“Did you think you could hide this from me,” Sam whispered quietly, “I’ve been sharing your dreams for weeks.” He shifted his weight again, rolling Dean onto his back, hazel eyes dark with arousal, gazing down into deep green pools, which flicked nervously across his face. Dean’s expression a mixture of confusion and hope.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, Sam kissed him, slowly investigating the line of his lip, tongue seeking admittance before the intoxicating shared heat as his lips parted, sending jolts of ecstasy through his groin. Sam drew back, smiling at Dean’s confusion. How sweet it was to finally be the one in charge. “Not another word Dean, I know exactly what you need.”

He dropped his knee between Dean’s thighs, pushing his firm leg muscles against the bulge of Dean’s crotch, raising his knee slightly to gently massage his cock through two layers of denim. Dean arched, and moaned again, lost in the delirium of the moment. Heart pounding, mind beyond rational thought, utterly lost in the wild agony of need for Sam. 

“Oh, God, Sammy…” those lips sealed his words back into his mouth, as soft hands pulled his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, trapping them by his sides, before gentle fingers crept across his stomach, scratching lightly, leaving trails of fire across the skin, which prickled, goose flesh and a pulse of pleasure that he thought for a moment would finish him. His groans and mewling were lost in the soft sweet heat of Sam’s mouth. He struggled to free his hands of his shirtsleeves, desperate to touch; only to feel Sam draw back, pushing him down. He opened his eyes in time to see Sam, sat astride him, T-shirt half over his head, the ripple of muscle under the skin, before he threw it behind him. He smiled his crooked smile at Dean, the look of triumph on his face amazing his brother.

“What, like I can’t want this, too. Why didn’t you talk to me? Why do you always have to keep up the moody self-contained shit? Can’t keep stuff from me, I’m ‘psychic boy’ remember? Oh fuck you are so hot when you look like that.” He leant forward, harsh whispers tickling Dean’s ear and neck. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, that you come screaming.”

Dean pulled his ‘what the fuck’ expression, and Sam could contain himself no longer, he dragged Dean’s jeans and shorts down over his hips and down towards his feet, leaving them pooled at his ankles. Dean kicked his feet, tangling his jeans on his clumpy boots, until Sam dropped against his chest, teeth nipping at his jaw and neck. Hands roving over every inch of skin he could find, teasing and scraping, hard muscles pushing Dean’s rigid erection against his own stomach, the pressure and friction tearing another guttural groan from his throat. Teeth catching his lip attempting to hold back the surge of orgasm which threatened to overwhelm him. 

Sam kissed him bruisingly, teeth clashing against his lips, tongue aggressively assaulting his parted lips. “Dean,” he gasped, “On your knees.”

Without really thinking about it Dean rolled over, hands and feet still trapped in his own clothes, face pressed into the dirt. The cool air flowing over his rock hard cock, pre-cum feeling like antifreeze. Sam pulled him upright, drawing his t-shirt over his head and throwing it to one side, pushing Dean back onto his hands, feather light kisses tracing the smooth bumps of his spine, sucking, scolding hot mouth and tongue, moving lower and lower. Dean arched hard as Sam lapped around the soft puckered opening, tongue gently dipping in and out, pausing to say, “Don’t you even think about touching yourself.” 

Dean stopped, hand mid air. He placed his hand back on the ground. “Sammy, please,” he begged, pushing back towards him. “I won’t do it again, just please don’t stop,” Sam smirked, he wished he had a recorder for that. Dean begging, so sweetly. “Back to the car,” Sam ordered, “I’m not finishing this in the dirt. I want you on your back screaming my name, and this dirt is murdering my knees.” He giggled hysterically at his own boldness. I’m turning into Dean, he thought idly.

He hauled a shocked Dean to his feet and watched as he drew his shorts and pants back up over the smooth curve of his ass. Sam licked his lips, drawing his bottom lip through his teeth, pushing Dean ahead of him back to the car.

“Give me the keys, Dean.” Sam slammed his brother against the side of the car, enjoying his surprise and groan of enjoyment. Filing it away in his brain for future use. He pushed Dean into the passenger seat and drove in silence back to the motel. 

 

Dean sat quietly, mind reeling, not wanting to speak and spoil the moment. This was better than the dreams, it was as if Sam was inside his desires, reading them like a map. His erection hurt in the confines of his jeans and he shifted in the seat, hitching the crotch away. Hand smarting, breath frozen as Sam slapped his fingers away. 

He didn’t even move when Sam left him briefly to fetch the key. He wasn’t sure how he made it from the Impala into the room, worrying briefly about his lack of shirt, but then they were inside and Sam was pushing him back against the closed door in a long hard demanding kiss, that left his vision crowding with a thousand sparkling lights from lack of air. He stood submissively, palms flat against the wood grain, as Sam’s gentle hands roamed across his skin, one snaking up across his shoulders and snatching at the short hair at the back of his neck, the other pinching his nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through his already hypersensitive body.

He brought his hands up slowly, tentatively, pushing Sam back, only to find himself pulled tighter against his brother, as Sam tightened his grip on the back of his neck. His other arm clutching possessively around Dean’s waist. His mouth, those lips and teeth, nicking and sucking at his ear, his neck, his jawline, as they staggered drunkenly towards the bed.

Sam threw him down, his self control hanging by a thread, as Dean sprawled backwards, hair a mess, lip white between his teeth, face flushed, half propped on one elbow, one long leg braced on the floor, the other across the counterpane.

“Clothes off,” Sam growled, yanking Dean’s boots from his feet. Dean lifted his hips, dragging jeans and shorts down over his hips and thighs, never moving his eyes from Sam’s. The gaze seemed to last forever as they drowned in each others souls, all thoughts of wrongness and guilt pushed away.

Sam kicked his own shoes and pants away, launching himself at Dean, who flinched, expecting another punishing kiss, only to find Sam’s face inches from his own, long fingers gently caressing his bruised cheek, closing the gap between their lips painfully slowly, seeking permission for the first time.

Dean nearly lost it, the tenderness undoing him completely, “I need you,” he gasped, the emotion in his voice sounding alien even to him, his hands reaching for Sam’s face to draw him down into the kiss.

Their lips touched only briefly and then, “Ah-ah.” Sam chastised, finger wagging in front of Dean’s face. “Hands above your head, move them again and I’ll tie you to the bedstead.” Dean whimpered, eyes widening into the expression that Sam found so fuckable, as he moved his arms over his head and Sam seemed to melt over him, one hand pinning his wrists. The kiss was tender, lips tingled, strong fingers gripping his chin. 

Sam drew back again, finger tracing the line of Dean’s lip, before pushing it gently between the darkened lips, jousting with the soft tongue, as Dean moaned and writhed beneath him. “God, you are so fucking beautiful, Dean.” Dean arched as the spit moistened finger circled his helmet gently picking up pre-cum before Sam pushed it into him, past the knot of muscle, sending yet another spasm of pleasure through his painfully throbbing erection. “Sam, please, just fuck me, please.”

“Hush,” Sam whispered, lips closing over his. Dean rocked forward, pushing himself against Sam’s forearm, his mewling whimpers driving Sam to the point of no return. Sam drew his hand away, fumbling to position himself, pushing forward gently as Dean spread his legs, wrapping them around Sam’s back, pulling him closer. The whimpers, became moans of pain, as his body spasmed around Sam, who lay still pressing forward only as Dean urged him on, drawing him on into the heat and softness of his tight body. For a moment they paused, fused together and it was Dean who moved first, rocking back, encouraging Sam to move. 

Sam was mesmerised, watching Dean gasping and groaning, murmuring his name as he began to move gently, growing steadily more confident, thrusting into Dean, deeper and harder until the beautiful green eyes flew open and their gazes locked.

Dean stared into Sam’s eyes, watching his pupils draw to a point and then expand to almost obscure his iris as he collapsed forward on top of him, thrusting forward, flooding his body with warmth. 

His own orgasm caught him like the surge of a breaker, white hot and blinding to his senses, it crashed through him, ripping the scream from his throat, leaving him trembling and weak, every nerve discordant, thrumming with the aftertaste.

Sam lay still, the echo of his heartbeat pounding through Dean’s chest, lungs bursting for the need of air, as Dean stroked his back with lazy fingers dragging along the slick, soft skin.

Sam mumbled something against his shoulder. Dean raised his head, neck straining and said “Huh?” Sam rolled off him on to his side, a wicked smile on his face, teeth gleaming in the half light, as he propped himself up on his elbow. “Told you I’d make you scream.”


End file.
